


we all need a light in the dark

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Babies, F/M, Las Vegas Wedding, poor decision-making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>According to TMZ, you stood on a blackjack table and announced that you were going upstairs to impregnate your bride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we all need a light in the dark

Gabe believed in shaking off a breakup by touring until it stopped hurting. For a divorce, he figured, that meant touring twice as hard. It worked for Pete.

“No,” Pete said when Gabe called him from Texarkana, “no, it didn’t work for me at all. Taking a couple of years off worked for me.”

“I already did that. I can’t do it again.”

“Okay, but you don’t have to tour. You could just put out music. Like Mikey’s going to do. Touring makes him crazy, so he’s not going to do it anymore. You could do that.”

“I love touring.”

“I know you do, but it puts all that temptation in front of you.”

“I can resist temptation. I can rise above the urges of the flesh.”

“Oh god.” Pete sighed. “Please tell me you don’t have your shaman with you.”

“No, he’s busy.” Gabe hesitated. “I think he’s in France.”

“You do know he’s ripping you off, right?” 

Gabe scowled at the phone. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

“Love you, brother.”

“I love you too.” Gabe hung up and sent out the _Cobras: assemble!_ text. He needed to be distracted. They were good for that.

**

They successfully distracted him across the Southwest. When they weren’t enough, he could go out into the desert and look up at the sky. He was Jewish. Wandering in the desert was, like, spiritually mandatory. He could ask the sky and the sun-baked dirt his questions, and they could ignore him, and he could reassure himself that eventually, Hashem would answer him, just not in the way he expected. You had to be _open_ to Hashem. He always showed up when you weren’t looking.

When they got to Vegas, though, he slipped up. Vegas was surrounded by desert, but it wasn’t _of_ the desert. It was human-made. Built on sin and bones. He should use that in a song, somewhere; he jotted it down on a napkin and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans.

Then he went out and got very, very, very wasted.

His Cobras came with him, of course, because they had sworn a blood oath to be ride or die. Nobody was fucking leaving this band alive, not now. He made them swear _another_ blood oath at the third club they went to, sterilizing the wounds with tequila. Victoria refused to participate, but she did let him do a shot from between her boobs, so she was forgiven and still part of the inner circle.

“Victoria,” he said, staring into her eyes, “you are the only one I can really trust, sometimes.”

“Nate, Pete, your dad, and your brother.” She counted them off on her fingers. “I’m the fifth person you can trust. Wait, sixth. Spencer P.”

He huffed at her in annoyance. “You’re missing my point.”

“What is your point, Gabriel?”

“You stood by me.” He blinked away tears, then rubbed his eyes on his sleeve when that didn’t work. “You _stayed_.”

“So did Nate.”

“That’s _different_.”

“How?”

“You’re the only woman who’s ever stood by me.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Oh my god. I need another drink for this.”

“I’ll get you one.” He waved for the waitress. “Because man, Victoria, I’ve got so much to say.”

**

His phone woke him up at eight AM, which was horrible.

Pete’s voice sounded chipper, which was even more horrible. “Do you know what you did last night, Gabanti?”

Gabe groaned and put a pillow over his eyes. “Why are you calling me?”

“Do you know what you did last night?”

“Is this a setup for a joke? Because it’s too early.”

Pete giggled. “I know what you did last night. So does Bob. So does TMZ.”

“I’m too D-list for TMZ to care.”

“That’s true. But they called me for a quote anyway.”

Gabe took the pillow away and stared at the ceiling. “Tell me what I did last night.”

“You married Victoria Asher in a lovely Las Vegas ceremony, very tasteful, non-Elvis-themed, after which you bought drinks for the house, stood on a blackjack table, and announced that you were going upstairs to impregnate your bride.”

Gabe blinked slowly. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that.”

“Check your room for evidence and call me back.” Pete hung up with a click and Gabe lay there for a moment, wondering. Then he sat up.

Yes, that was Victoria curled up beside him, still dead to the world.

Yes, that was an extremely cheap wedding band on his finger. Way smaller than the last one. Probably way cheaper, too. He rubbed his fingers together and looked around.

There was a receipt next to his phone for many thousands of dollars, probably for that round of drinks for the house. There was another receipt next to it for repairs to a blackjack table. No condom wrappers. His underwear were on top of the TV, and Victoria’s bra was hanging from the bathroom door handle.

“Vic,” he said, his voice a hoarse croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Victoria.”

“What?” she mumbled, not lifting her head from the pillow. “It’s early.”

“Did you ever think about waking up married and pregnant in Vegas?”

“Oh yeah, it was my fucking childhood dream, Gabe.” She sat up, glaring at him. “Why would you ask me that?”

He shrugged and held up his left hand. “Surprise.”

She stared at him for a moment, then flopped onto the bed again. “Oh, fuck.”

**

They named the baby Asher Saporta. It just seemed right.

“You always have gone about things in your own way,” Gabe’s dad said when he met the baby. He cradled his grandson expertly in his arms. “My third grandchild and maybe the most handsome. Don’t tell your brother.”

“I always knew I was your favorite, Papi.”

“Ha. You won’t get that in writing.” He kissed Asher’s forehead. “You know that even if this marriage also doesn’t last, I will still love you.”

“It’s lasted nine months!”

“Yes, that deserves great celebration.”

His dad was some kind of wizard of sarcasm. “Vic’s known me for a long time. She’s seen me at my worst. I don’t think I can disappoint her.”

“Low expectations do have that effect.” Diego settled back in his chair, bouncing Asher gently. “No, mijo, I am teasing you. You and Victoria fit very well.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.” Diego gave him a stern look. “Not as well as you and Peter, but that ship seems to have sailed.”

“Oh my god. Stop.” Gabe reached for the baby. “Give me my kid.”

“No.” Diego turned to keep his body between Gabe and Asher. “Peter is the godfather, si?”

“He and Nate are co-godfathers.”

“Good. A baby should have many people to love them.”

“He’s going to be the most loved baby in the whole world.” Gabe tried to circle Diego and reach for Asher again, but his dad was quick, like a spider. “Papi!”

“Fine, fine. Take him.” Diego settled the baby in Gabe’s arms and looked up at him for a moment. “I’m very proud of you, you know.”

“You are?”

“Yes.” Diego reached for the remote. “I will be more proud when you stop wearing your hair in that ridiculous way, but as it is, very proud.”

“Thanks, Papi. Mostly.” Gabe rolled his eyes, touched his pompadour for reassurance that it was still awesome, and looked down at Asher’s face. “I’d better get him back to his mama for a snack.”

Victoria was sitting up in bed waiting for them. “There you are. I thought you took the baby and ran.”

“Never.” Gabe sat down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t have the equipment to feed him.”

“Very funny.” She took the baby and carefully brushed the soft fluff of hair off his forehead. “We make a pretty good-looking kid, Saporta.”

“We do.” He swallowed. “You feel up to a couple more?”

“Ask me in a week or two.” She guided her nipple to Asher’s mouth and watched him for a moment. “What are you waiting for, are you going to Instagram this or not?”

“You’re the best mistake I ever made, Victoria,” he said, and he meant it with all his heart.


End file.
